


Paint A Picture, It Lasts Longer

by Averia



Category: Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Creepy Slade Wilson, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 16:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21256019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Averia/pseuds/Averia
Summary: After a week-long absence, Slade comes home to some interesting security footage.





	Paint A Picture, It Lasts Longer

**Author's Note:**

> Last SladeRobin Week entry. Thank you for going onto this journey with me this October! :)
> 
> (Sorry for any formating mistakes, not proof read and straight from my phone.)
> 
> Day 6: Caught on Camera | Forced Relationship

"Biometrics search system has caught unidentified signature," isn't something Slade likes to hear after a week-long absence, but he didn’t get any notifications on the job either, which means one of his children has made a new friend. Probably not Rose. Slade knows all of her friends, has scared them countless times and meticulously keeps tabs on them. She’s smart enough not to bring them home anymore.

"Show."

Blue eyes flicker away from the camera just as the lens begins to catch the youthful face of a boy--man the same age as Joey. Their height is the same too, but with just a glance it's obvious that the newcomer has a lot more muscle definition compared to his light-weight of a son.

"Holy salesmanship," the young man laughs, "you weren't lying when you said your house is half a mansion." His gaze sweeps over the interior in wonderment. Joey smiles. His hands gesture excitedly when blue eyes peer at him again, careful not to miss any signs.

Such considerate behavior isn't something Slade sees often. It's intriguing, and Slade settles down into his leather chair to watch the spectacle unfold. 

They know each other. Well. Which is strange considering Joey has only started living with him barely a month ago. A childhood friend, maybe?

No.

The face seems familiar now that the camera has a good view of him. He's seen him around, on pictures of Joey's friends, on drawings strewn around the house. An athlete. Gray... Grayson? Or something. Adeline has a grudging respect for the boy if he remembers correctly.

Oh.

Slade snorts, smiles privately. He props his head up with a fist, leans back a bit more comfortably. Richard Grayson is the reason Joey came to Chicago, is the reason Joey lives with him now instead of Addie.

Maybe he should write the kid a “thank you”-note.

"You sure your family will be away for long enough?" Grayson asks, pulling off his leather jacket and revealing a low v-cut that shows more of his chest than it ought to do. Joey nods absentmindedly while pulling drawing supplies from a corner of the living room. He must have stocked up before inviting Grayson. Slade can't remember Joey owning that much stuff.

"Well then, Joey, draw me like one of your French girls," Grayson wiggles his eyebrows, a wolfish grin on his lips which only grows brighter when Joey rolls his eyes at him. It's a joke or so Slade presumes until Grayson pulls off his trousers so casually, Slade isn't even sure what he is seeing. 

It's not the strangest thing his cameras have ever caught. Slade just didn't take Joey for the type. He knows he should stop watching, and his lips are already starting to form the "S", but the camera calibrates anew, perspective changing. And... well, wearing such short and form-fitting boxers with such an ass should be illegal.

Grayson slips them down too, and Slade can only stare, casual lean against his fist forgotten as he can't help but focus on the screen more intently. The shirt is soon to follow, falling unceremoniously to the floor. Grayson winks before sauntering towards the couch with a swing to his narrow hips that is more exaggerated than sexy.

Slade can just imagine the tremors shaking Joey's shoulders, still knows the sound of his laughter.

Grayson sprawls out on the couch in what should be uncoordinated movements; instead, they look smooth and elegant. Shadows hide his best assets as if he saw the overhead lights and calculated where the shadows should fall in the matter of a second. It's a ridiculous thought, but as far as he has heard, Grayson's mind is ridiculous too.

"Hey, I'm not!" Grayson laughs at something Joey signs then ruffles through his hair, tangling it between his fingers. He leans back a little a bit more, wiggles his eyebrows, "Or did you want me all hot and bothered first?"

There is a gleam in the boy’s eyes, mischievous and daring and excited. It cuts Slade's breath short.

A smile blooms on Grayson's full lips, as he gets into a more comfortable position with a look that can't decide if it wants to be smoldering or amused.

"I'm waiting, sweetheart." It's a deep purr if Slade has ever heard one, and Grayson stretches more, exposes everything, and presents himself. His muscles ripple, his arms rise to steady his head as he arches. A shadow falls over him, makes his eyes look darker. His lips part a little more when a thumb presses against them, pink of his tongue visible against the pat of Joey’s thumb.

"Hold," Slade speaks, voice hoarse. He wants to see more. He's hard.

"Shall signature be saved?"

Slade licks his lips.

"Yes," the command comes out just as rough. His gaze sticks to the long eyelashes, mystifying the blue eyes, half-lowered as they are. "Save signature under Grayson, authorization one, security level six." 

"Signature Grayson #0036 saved, the signature may enter house parameters up to level one, cameras will activate once the signature is in proximity."

Joey is soft, too soft sometimes, but he hides a temper that equals Grant's. His sons are like younger versions of himself. It would be easy to pretend...

"Save data of Grayson #0036 under password 2543 with voice recognition," Slade demands, rising from his chair, the cargo pants unusually restricting.

"Saved."

"Erase history," Slade adds, pushing his clothes off the second he steps into his ensuite bathroom.

"History erased."

It has been a long and stressful week. Indulging after a job well-done isn't anything new, he just never thought it would involve imagining the hot mouth of his son's boyfriend instead of a very real quick paid fuck. 

When he can think more clearly, can think about more than black hair, soft lips, and big blue eyes, he wonders what picture Joey ended up drawing. He could probably find more than one nude of Grayson if only he opened the right art folder, found the right box underneath Joey’s bed.

When he returns downstairs a couple hours later, Joey has already finished making dinner. The whole house smells of rosemary. Joey’s mood is even better than Slade is used to, and he pretends he can't see the dark love bite on Joey's neck.

"Hey, Dad?" Joey signs in the middle of dinner. Slade just so keeps from reprimanding him. Eating cold food isn't good after all. "Can D-I-C-K Gray-Son come over for an art school project?"

His hands halt, just resting in the air for a moment, and then they hasten more: "A couple of days? You know he is the one with the black hair and blue eyes. He's a gymnast?" His cheeks flush, blue eyes nervously jumping down to his food then back up again. "You met him at the start of term?"

"Of course," leaves his lips far too soon. Joey doesn't notice, and thankfully Rose isn't present to warn her brother.


End file.
